Moments
by FlorLola
Summary: Nobody said it was going to be easy. But on the road to redemption, they might find more than they could've ever dreamed of. Love, friendship, belogning; all, in the form of a rather large and merry group of powerful young women. Insights to the lives of the Shitennou. Set in the same universe/storyline as Coming Home
1. Chapter 1

**1**

A siren wailed somewhere out on the street, and blue eyes snapped open.

A mute scream died in his dry throat, and he scanned his surroundings.

Empty.

His room was empty. There was the school uniform he had discarded the day before, books and notebooks over his desk, the backpack on the floor, the bulls eye with the three darts fighting to be straight in the middle, just like he had left it the night before.

Everything was exactly as he left it. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, and yet he scanned the room, wary of the shadows the curtains and the moonlight casted into the room.

_This is ridiculous_, he growled to himself, letting out a frustrated sigh and sweeping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

It had been the same for a couple of months now.

He couldn't exactly say how it all started. There had always been little things here and there, like walking into a classroom and knowing what that one girl staring at him was thinking. Or knowing what that particular teacher who didn't appreciate his jokes thought of him, or knowing exactly what his father thought of him in general and his lack of interest to the family business in particular…

It wasn't just guessing. The looks and general body language could speak volumes sometimes, yes, and it didn't take to be a genius to guess his father thought him as nothing but a disappointment -not that he cared… at all-, but it wasn't just that. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, it was as if he could literally see their thoughts…

He would have thought it weird, and it probably was, but he had always been able to do it. And over the years, he had slowly learned to control it somewhat; there were no intruding, alien thoughts invading his mind at any given moment anymore, which was good. But up until a few months ago, he hadn't been able to master the ability to see someone's thoughts at will. Which wasn't particularly bad per say -sometimes he did feel bad about it, intruding someone's mind like that-, but, what was the point on having this ability if he couldn't truly control it? And maybe use it for his benefit every now and then.

But recently, he had realized, he could easily see other people's thoughts with barely any effort at all. And though this strange ability of his had always been there as far as he could remember, it wasn't until the strange dreams came that he started to being able to fully control it.

And that, well, that really was weird. Even for him.

Cries of war, the clashing of swords, lighting, fire, ice… A chain _glowing_ in the middle of a battle field. And blood… just so, so much blood… _everywhere_.

Nothing ever made much sense, and he would have thought a suddenly very vivid imagination had just decided to use nighttime as its favorite break free path, if it weren't for the whispers.

The hissing, murmuring voices hiding in the shadows, calling out a name. Not _his_ name, and yet… they were calling out to him.

Scary didn't even cut it.

He was not that easily scared, and he had never thought of himself as the coward kind. He didn't particularly think he was the brave knight in shiny armor either, but he was fairly confident in the knowledge that, if anything, he had a strong set of very well placed balls; he was no pussy, and it took a whole lot more than ghostly horror tales to freak him out.

But those whispers… Those terrified him. And they made him seriously consider the possibility of his own mind finally calling a night and leaving him behind, brand new straitjacket on and walls covered with mattresses, all the way.

He had survived two years living with his father, his forever absent, completely uncaring, with a heart even colder -and harder- than all the ice on the North Pole, lord of all control freaks out there, lame excuse of a father. Two long, tedious years of putting up with pretences and appearances and 'the right way a young man should act' and etiquette and beautiful girls that could just as easily be robots -sometimes he seriously thought they were -, and all it took for him to finally go mad were whispers in the night.

Go figure.

They started with the dreams. They would always come after the dreams and then lingered in the dark, sending cold shivers down his spine and freezing his blood; heart just about to explode inside his chest, breathing erratically and uncontrolled, and sweating like a pig running for its life.

Strangely enough, the only thing that calmed him down were the other dreams. The nice ones -the fewer ones.

A golden castle; the deep, rich laughter of a long, silver haired man when he fell flat on his back; blonde curls and laughing emeralds as a girl in man clothes played with a dagger in between long, slender fingers; a brunette boy pointing up to the night sky, and something about the song of the stars; kind, gentle blue eyes and a mop of jet black hair, and the incredibly warm aura all around a teenage boy.

Amethyst eyes, long, raven hair dancing in the night air, and dancing fire…

He was sure the beauty in the red shoes was just a product of his hormones-driven imagination. But the other four…

The alarm went off and he growled, hitting it and shutting it down. Letting out a sigh, he laid on his back for a while longer, staring up at the ceiling. But his thoughts were still on the golden castle; he could still see the brunette staring at the sky, the tall man silver haired man -seriously, silver? How many people out there had freaking silver hair?- laughing at his expense, the girl in man clothes playing with daggers, the prince…

He frowned. _Prince?_, he wondered. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

He didn't know. He just knew it to be true; that black haired teenage boy was a prince.

His Prince.

His friend.

Growling lowly to himself, he kicked the sheets off his legs and got out of bed. Walking into his bathroom, he turned the lights on and contemplated the image the mirror gave back to him.

"Alright, Jei boy," he said to himself. "You are officially losing it."

.

.

.

* * *

**A.N: **I'll try to make this short... This is more of a collection of related one-shots that somehow fill in some white spaces left behind by another story of mine, Coming home. You don't absolutely have to read that one (which is still in progress) to understand these one shots.

Basically, these one shots tell the lives of the Shitennou in the in-between moments, from the moment they started gaining their memories back, to how they found each other. All the Senshi would be making an appearance here, and I might include some romance here and there, but this is, for the most part, a story about friendship.

If you didn't read Coming home and have no plans of ever reading it, then: yes, I made Zoisite a she. Shame on me, I know.  
I plead insanity. That, and Coming home was born out of a big fat what if, and these one shots sort of follow that storyline, but far more centered on the other three rather than She-Zoi (though she will be in here, too)

With that said... reviews are always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Jogging down the path, he focused on his breathing and pace, stubbornly keeping anything and everything else out of his head.

He purposely left everything behind, on the bricked path of the part; the job interview at a prestigious law firm in less than two hours, the finals next week and the graduation ceremony, and the speech he needed to review before that. The young man in black armor sneaking out from under his watch…

He shook his head, forcing the thought off his mind. He didn't have time for strange dreams about a prince in some golden palace and three other men under his command trying to protect said prince.

_No, not three_, he corrected himself. _One was a girl_.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind he growled. A deep, set frown coming to his handsome features as he sped up just a little bit, focusing on his jogging once more.

So what if there had once been a prince somewhere out there under his watch? So what if the four of them, the other two men, the girl and himself had been in charge of looking after that prince? So what if there had been some kind of war and some sort of witches in miniskirts -miniskirts, for Christ's sake!- taking a stand against evil forces?

Those were just dreams. Extremely weird, utterly confusing, downright ridiculous dreams. Worthy of either a horror movie, with the blood, the hissing whispers, the torture, the pain -so, so much pain…-, or an erotic tale, with a golden beauty, a goddess, riding him in all her naked glory, long blonde hair all around her marvelous body and the red bow that had once been in her hair now covering cornflower colored eyes as he played and tasted her…

Even the thought of her in the orange miniskirt and white leotard was enough to arouse him. Her teasing, brilliant smile and shinning eyes made his heart ache, and it all drove him insane.

He shook his head, pushing the dream-memory away.

He had a tall, strong frame, narrow hips, hard abdomen and broad shoulders. The uncommon silver tint of his hair was natural, and he had piercing ice blue eyes; he knew the effect he had in women, and he had never had any kind of trouble in that area. He didn't need to chaste after the ghost of a dreamed goddess who couldn't possibly be real, for no woman could ever look like that in real life; there were plenty of fish in the sea.

And, usually, it was them the ones doing the chasing. He simply obliged every now and then. For a night or two. And only with those he thought mature enough to understand, no strings attached wasn't code for anything; it meant exactly that.

He never made any promises, and he wasn't planning on sharing his life with anyone anytime soon. He had plans he had worked hard to achieve his whole life, and he refused to let it all go to waste because his subconscious had finally decided to give in.

He didn't need this. He didn't need the ghost of the goddess, he didn't need to spend any amount of time wondering -worrying- about witches and wars and a probably pompous prince who had most likely got himself in skirts trouble.

He didn't have time for any of it. And yet…

He was a man of control, and he was rather proud of that. During day time, the goddess rarely ever invaded his thoughts; it was the prince who was constantly there, hidden on some corner of his mind. And he couldn't even begin to comprehend why just the thought of that boy, for he couldn't be older than eighteen, was enough to make him worried.

He feared for the boy, and he couldn't understand why.

Why was he so important? Who was he?

_Endymion. His name is Endymion._

The voice, completely out of nowhere, just came to his mind with such clarity and such certainty, it shook him entirely, forcing him to a stop.

Who said that?

It wasn't the whispering shadows. He knew that, for the voice had sounded different. There was no hissing hatred pouring out, no cold shiver running down his spine, no horror wanting to crawl its way into his heart. It almost sounded…

It sounded like himself…

The memory of bright, warm sapphires assaulted him; sorrow and shame like he had never felt before filled his every pore.

He had betrayed him.

How, when. Why…

He didn't know. He wasn't sure. Just like he wasn't sure of how he knew the prince's name, or why was he so sure it was his job to protect him, to keep him alive. He just knew, with a sudden clarity that surprised him, he had betrayed the prince.

He had failed.

His watch's alarm went off, startling him. Taking a deep breath which came out in the form of a low growl, he put his head back in order and turned around, making his way back to his apartment.

He couldn't afford to lose it right now; he needed to focus. Strange dreams and tales of war and betrayal and loss could wait.

He needed to get ready for his interview. That's what he needed to do.


End file.
